We thought we were immortal. The air surrounded us, winter creeping into our arms. Our steps echoed in the low light of the stairs. Her pulse grew the closer we got. I turned once to see her eyes in a brilliant glean. The air’s ballad mixed with our steps as we stood in front of the rusted door. Winter slept in the steel platform draining itself into the soles of our feet as our bodies converged in irregular panting. I tightened my grip. She winced, and her pulse lowered. The cracks of the doors exhaled ash and fuel. Everything came together in the sky. I remember how we first met. We were both trying to fly. We thought we were immortal.
Her dress fluttered in the wind. A thousand frills accompanied a thousand sirens as we came to the edge of the roof. It was barren save for our naive steps. Her hair fluttered with the winds that rose through the building. I wasn’t quite sure how we both failed to fly that day. But when I opened my eyes, I was greeted by a world of white and the soft pulse of her hands over mine. The beeping of that world filled my mind as I closed my eyes. In the distance, was the roaring of an airplane.
“Did you really have to wear something like that, June?” I asked as she twirled on the ledge, her foot nearly slipping. She laughed.
“You’re not complaining now are you, July?” Her voice rasped into my ears with the gusts of the city. They merged like the lull of a crowd of wheels.
“I’m not. But it’s cold out here. I can’t help but be worried.” She smiled back as she paced on the ledge.
“I appreciate your worry. But I’m not the one who should be taking it.” She stopped in front of me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I felt her weight follow her back. We once thought of having a child name August. We were dumb back then. “This isn’t the first time we’ve done this.” Her smell was intoxicating. “But it really doesn’t change no matter how much I’m here. ” She turned her head back, peering into the streets. I shifted my feet in balance. I readied my arms. I stilled my breathing. The pulses that shot into my hands reminded me of the beating of her heart as she laid her head onto my chest. She wouldn’t let go, even after the doctors came. “This is where we belong.” She looked at me with a smile that paid the night. “Do you think they can see us?”
“Would you want them to see us?”
“I’d want them all to see us.”
“I always thought you were the embarrassed type.” She laughed, her entire body forcing her way off the ledge. I braced harder onto the roof.
“I’d given that all away the first time we tried. Now I’m as free as a bird.”
“If only we could fly.”
“We will. We’re immortal. No matter how long it takes. We’ll fly.”
“No matter how long it takes you’ll still stay with me?” She pressed forward, lifting from the ledge into my embrace. Her warmth held me together until she pulled me towards the ledge. She came under my arm, pressing me forward towards the filled streets. The lights of the city all raced to find my mind. In another motion she brought me back, the rush of the city all dispersed with the stars. They blinked like hospital screens.
“I’m here with you now, aren’t I?” Her breath barely reached the sky. “If we could only be stars, we’d already have everything we wanted.”
“If we were stars we wouldn’t be together like this.”
“And that’s fine too.” Beyond the stars were the moon that glittered like a watchful clock. Once filled it would espouse a new month. That’s what we did to pass the time. She would flutter my curtains when the doctors leave. Big dipper to Polaris. Polaris to Little Dipper. She would rave on about all the darkened sea. We would do so until the moon became full.
“If we were stars,” she continued, “we’d be able to die together, without fail.” Her voice lulled into my mind. Her arms brought me back to the ledge. We stood arms in tow, letting the brunt of the city remember our every crevice. “Are we the rulers of the world yet?”
“Not yet. Not even close.” I felt her pulse ring softly. My heart began to follow.
“We’re immortal and yet we can’t even rule the world. What more than to plant our mark when we can.” She laughed.
“It’ll take a little more than just that to make our marks.”
“What do you have in mind for two immortals to be remembered?” I shook my head and let the city swallow me for a moment.
“The stars?” She asked with her hand facing the building opposite.
“That’s right. We have to reach the stars. And once we land, we’ll be the rulers of the world.” She let out a breath that lingered in the air until our next words.
“How long would that take?”
“With just the two of us? It’ll take us a million years.”
“Then I’ll wait a million years for us to touch the stars.”
“You won’t get bored?” She shook her head.
“Do you think we’ll always be together like this?” She asked. Her pulse shifted. That happened once in hospital. The monitor jumped when her warmth left me.
“We’re immortal. Of course we’ll be together.” She pressed her foot forward, hanging it on the collected airs of the city.
“They all seem so small. Everything about the city doesn’t seem so scary anymore. It’s like we’ve become the stars. We can die together like this, even if that is the only time we’ll be together.”
“We’re lightless stars.”
“If we’re lightless stars, then no one will ever know we exist.” I shook my head.
“It just means that we’d have died a long time ago. Eventually, even our lights would have reached the Earth. And eventually, even our stories will be told.” Her eyes glistened in empty flashes.
“In that case, we can’t leave each other. Those hundred years will be so lonely otherwise. It’s good that we’re immortal.” Her grip tightened. Her dress fluttered with the city. I closed my eyes and let the air of the roof swirl into my mind. We thought we were immortal.